University of Virginia Library

Actus 5.

Scena 1.

Enter Strephon, Clitophon, Alexis.
Clito.
'Tis certaine my Alexis; have not I
(Who in their presence for love dayly die)
A cause to blame my destiny, and be
Oppress'd with a continuall melancholy?

Alex.
You are your owne Oppressour.

Clito.
O wretched fate!
I in their presence do at on every one,
Yet in their absence am content with none.

Stre.
Yet I am in a farre worse case
Than any of you both alas.
This villaine Cupid play'd the knave,
Or at my birth his mother gave
Some of her beauty to my naturall parts,
Which doe allure even stony hearts,
That I am weary of so many
Good parts, and would lend some to any.
I Clitophon, even every limb
About thee can with beauty trim,
And never miss'd: I dare be sworne
There's not an inch about me worne,
Which has not, all the Maids can tell,
Waiting on it of love an Ell.

Alex.
O far more happy Strephon.

Stre.
I doe mocke me Alexis, I will surrender you
That happinesse with all my heart:
Were there but only two or three,
Or foure or five did doate on mee,
I grant you then 'twere very well,
The handsome then should heare the bell;
But there's not in this face a wrinckle,
Nor on my pretious nose a pimple,
Nor a haire upon my chin,
(But those you see are very thin)
Nor any squint comes from mine eye,
But that some wench for it does fry
In loves hot furnace: Though n'ere so coy,
Each Lasse would my good parts enjoy.

Clito.
Why does not Strephon then,
Make use of time, and chuse the richest Jemme
Out of this Mine of beauty, and enrich
Himselfe by marriage?

Streph.

My fingers itch at thee to heare thee talk so foolishly:
Would'st have me make an Anatomy of my selfe?

Or dost suppose
That unto one I'le wed my nose,
And to another all the rest
Of this sweet face? A pretty jest,
Should I pretend my selfe to match,
The wenches then would play at catch
That catch may; each get a limbe,
Or rather with themselves in rage,
They cruell civill warre would wage,
And with those terrible weapons, their nailes,
Which them in battell never failes;
And farre more terrible tongues in spight
They'd fighting scold, and scolding fight.

Enter Sapho, Aminta, Florida.
Clito.
Still dearest Sapho, cruell Tygers may
By prayers and teares be mov'd, though cruell they
Delight in murder; you doe seeme to take
Your naturall fiercenesse from them, there cannot be
So much sterne vigour in humanity,
As to contemne a suppliant, and prove
To him most cruell, who does truliest love.

Saph.
You are too fickle Clitophon, you see
Leaves in green Autumne scatter'd from each tree
By the rude winds; you are more light than they,
More fading than the flowrey dresse which May
Attires the prickly thornes in; lighter far
Than frothy bubbles, or dispers'd smoakes are.
Yet I should love you, did not Strephons eye
Dart flames might fire a marble heart; they fly,
With nimble wings about me; Strephon see
She who refuses him, will yeeld to thee.

Str.

Would you could perswade me to't my nimble toung'd
Melpomene. I must not bee injust to wrong my friend
Clitophon, my friend's my friend, sweet Sapho: and you are a
woman, of which gender (thanks be to Heaven and my good
parts) I have indifferent choyse, a hundred or so. If you Aminta,
or you Florida love me, the best comfort or course you can take

Is to run mad for my deare sake.
And hang your selves, for you'l so prove
True lovers hang'd in chains of love.

Amin.
A cruell resolution: Sapho, well,
We must resolve not to lead apes in Hell.
And we have vow'd never to match but where
Strephon vouchsafes to give us; for you two,
Unlesse he please, our wils can nothing do.

Stre.

Come hither Clitophon, you love this witty rogue, this
Sapho.

Clit.
Deare as my own eyes.

Stre.
That's deare enough; and you Alexis love Aminta.

Alex.
I dare not name that word, yet ther's in me
A most severe and lasting constancy, to faire Aminta.

Clit.
O be gentle Strephon, let kind pitty move
Thy honest heart, not to deprive our love
Of its true comfort.

Stre.
I shall be sure now to be famous for some thing,
Your hands, your hands, my pretty payre of turtles.

Amin.
Will you forsake us Strephon?

Saph.
Will you give me away?
Whose heart desires to live only by your affection.

Stre.

I cannot helpe it, lesse I should distribute my
selfe amongst you; I'me very glad that matter is depos'd
into my handling; these wenches are in good hope now
that I will have one of them my selfe, and that makes them
refer themselves to mee: here Clitophon, take Sapho, and
you Alexis the beautifull Aminta: But bee sure to confesse
you have but my reversions. You'l give mee leave
to kisse your wives, or so, when you are married, Ile not
goe an inch further, as I am a true Arcadian; and so
shake hands, and Heavens give you joy. Now Clitophon
you're excellent at that sport, shall's not have a frisque or so
at your Wedding, ha?

Clito.

We'r all your servants.

Dance.
Saph.

Now Strephon wee have suffered you to play the
foole all this while,

Receive our true opinions of you.

Stre.
I, come, let's hear't.

Sap.
Thou hast a face
So full of vilenesse, it does disgrace
Deformity it selfe; ther's not a woman,
Were she to filthy prostitution common,
That could affect thee.

Flori.
Cease to torment him Sapho, the pretty else
Begins to see the beauty of it selfe:
We must attend our Lady.

Sap.
Strephon go,
And hang thy selfe, or else resolve to shew
Thy selfe no more, but like an Owle by night,
Or keep thy ill-favourd countenance to affright
Wolves from our sheep: Come lovers, now 'tis time
To celebrate our joyes, which then renew
When proofe has seal'd our fancies pure and true.

Exeunt.
Stre.

Now doe I perceive my selfe an errant asse, and
could hang my selfe in earnest, were I sure but to dy in
jest for't: these wenches are shee-furies, and I hope in
time to see them grow so abominably ugly, that they may
hate them: for to say truth,

These women are mere Weather-cocks,
And change their minds more than their smocks;
Have hearts as hard as stony rocks,
And toungs that lie worse than false clocks,
By which they catch men like Jacks in a box:
And so with my curses I leave them.

Exit.
Enter Philarchus. Amphialus.
Phil.
'Twould be the safest way my Lord, and which
Would best suit with your honour; be a means
To gaine faire Philoclea.

Amphi.
That blest name
Charmes me to adoration: O my Lord,
Philoclea's love is like a mine of wealth,
Guarded by watchfull Dragons; there attend
Legions of feares, and unrelenting thoughts,
On the unvalued treasure.

Phi.
I could wish you would expresse a more indulgent care
Towards your selfe: you see the angry King
Griev'd for his daughters, and Zelmanes losse,
Attempts what ever may invade your life;
I shall endevour your reconcilement with him; but my Lord,
Farewell, I know you wait some opposite; I wish
Your actions crown'd with a deserv'd successe.
Exit Phi.

Amphialus.
Thus honest Lord engages my observance: how my fate
Plays the sly tyrant with me, and involves
My thoughts in killing passions: flames meet flames
With equall resolution, and contend,
Like Cadmus earth-borne brothers to destroy
Each other by their fury; feare kils hope,
But a new rising from the former urne,
Takes vengeance on the murd'rer: wretched I
Live as to live were every houre to die.
Enter Sapho. Aminta. Florida in mourning, Parthenia after.
A most sad apparition suiting well
The inward horror of my mind! this Knight
Sure should not be my enemy, he fights
Under my very colours; Noble youth,
If what your outward figure speake, does chalenge
Relation to your mind; I see no cause
We should indanger our mortalities
In this infortunate quarrell: there appeares
So great an outward sympathy, it tels
My soule wee should not combat.

Parth.
Teach your feares
This fruitlesse hope: I come not hither arm'd
With resolution big as Fate, to part,
O'recome with aeyry treaties; sooner thinke
To charme the Genius of the world to peace,
When earthquakes have affrighted it, than with
Well-worded eloquence, to decline the height
Of my wak'd wrath.

Amph.
Sir, you promise
An Early conquest o're me, but there rests
In mee a manly pitty, would not staine
My conquering hands in your too innocent bloud;
I would not have your vertue, gentle youth,
Be like a toward Cedar overwhelm'd
By an outragious tempest blasted ere
It come to full growth; if for honors Cause,
And to atcheive fame, you attempt my life,
Let me desire you to employ your force
On some lesse fortunate Warrier. I am loath
To triumph in the guiltlesse spoiles of your
Yet blooming honor.

Par.
Read thy friends this dialect of cowardise:
Know, to incense thee more, I'me one that hate
Thy deare Philoclea, with so dire a spight,
That I pronounce her one, who lives upon
The spoile of innocent vertue, that has caus'd
Guiltlesse effusion of more Noble bloud,
Than ever fill'd hers or your baser veines.

Amph.
Then I see, you come to raile, and must chastise the wrong
You do inflict on her, whose spotlesse soule
Is so much ignorant of the least guilt,
It understands it not: recant this wrong
Opinion of her purity, and leave off
To wake an anger that had rather sleepe,
Than rise to hurt you.

Part.
I see then I must adde
New truths to affright your cowardise: Your mistris
Is the decay of more fame-worthy soules,
Than she has hayrs or vaine bewitching looks
T'inthrall your wanton passion: on your heart,
My sword shall write this for a serious truth,
And underneath it, that unworthy lie
You have pronounc'd, in justifying her free
From my just affirmation.

Amp.
Feinds could never have so incens'd me,
Fight, Her Helmet fals off.
Blesse me! sure some Angel's entred
Into armes against my unworthy selfe;
Those golden locks, surely are Pallas head-tyre, or the Queen
Of Love has masqued her selfe in Mars his shape,
So to betray my lucklesse arme to slaughter
Of the worlds exquisite beauty.

Par.
Now my joy
Exceeds the greatest trophees: Argalus,
Me thinks I see him riding in a chariot drawn by Doves,
Cut the bright firmament, and there attend
My wish'd ascention.

Amph.
Some mountaine that
Has stood the longest rage of time, unloose
Its stony roots, fall on me, that I never
May be on earth remembred; deerest Lady,
Looke up, and let me showre a floud of teares
Into your wounds; distraction seaze me; may I
Like some black prodigy contemn'd by light
Never be more distinguish'd.

Part.
Nay my Lord,
Do not let passion discompose your thoughts.
You've done an office for me, that blots out
All my conceit of hatred: pray, forgive me,
I injur'd your Philoclea; arm'd for death,
I came to have it from that hand which slue
My Argalus; weepe not girles,
I do not need your moyst religious teares
To usher me to Heaven: Looke how an host
Of Sainted lovers on their turtles wings,
Conducted by my Argalus, approach
To waft me to Elisium; take my breath
That flies to thee on the pale wings of death,
Argalus, O Argalus.

Dies.
Amph.
Can I retaine mortality, and behold
This impious act of my dire fate? this piece
Of new demolish'd Nature, were it plac'd
For its own Ivory figure on a Tombe
Of purest Alabaster, would be thought
One with the stones white substance: Maids, convay
Your Ladies body hence, while I depart
To find a grief out, that may breake my heart.

Exit.
Amin.
Haplesse Lady,
Let us resolve not to out-live her, but
Like constant servants, waite upon in death
Our murd'red Mistris.

Sapho.